“Very good. But just consider, please, that I’m having enough trouble clearing you of a supposed murder of your doing, to want a real one, however provoked, on my hands.”
“Keep the man out of my way, then.”
“That depends. Anything else in your place damaged?”
“Not that I noticed. But I didn’t pay much attention to anything else. I came here direct to find you.”
“That’s right. Well, I’m with you, for the Nook.”
Locking his curious room after him, Kent led the way to the hotel lobby, where he stopped only long enough to send some telegrams. The sun was still a few minutes short of its setting when he and his companion emerged from the hotel. Kent at once broke into a trot.
[CHAPTER X—THE INVASION]
Such ruin as had been wrought in Sedgwick’s studio was strictly localized. The easel lay on the floor, with its rear leg crumpled. Around it were scattered the fragments of the glass upon which the painter had set his labor of love. A high old-fashioned chair faced the wreckage. On its peak was hung a traveling cap. Lopping across the back sprawled a Norfolk jacket belonging to Sedgwick. Chester Kent lifted the coat, and after a swift survey let it drop.
“Did you leave that there?” he asked.
“I hung it across the back of the chair,” answered Sedgwick.